


A Good Ol' Honest Life

by Auste



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Post-Canon, Recovery, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auste/pseuds/Auste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaggut pays it forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Ol' Honest Life

Swiftdraw was lost, wounded, and exhausted. He lay where the sand met the grass, curled up in pain and clutching his right arm. A long cut ran from his elbow to his wrist, bandaged haphazardly with cloth ripped from his tunic. Blood from his side soaked through the tunic that he had taken off to wrap around his middle. His cutlass, a chipped reminder of seasons spent on the sea, was off to one side, but he was facing away from it, waiting for his turn to enter Hellgates.

 

The searat preferred to look at the grass, at the deep forest he never made it to before collapsing. He didn't try to glance over his shoulder at the remains of his crew, bloody corpses about to be washed into the sea or become feasts for the seabirds. Swiftdraw shuddered; maybe he could be next and his trip to Hellgates would be even more painful. That thought made him let go of his arm and try to wriggle closer to the nearest copse in the hopes of losing the birds, but each movement was so agonizing that he gave up after a couple of inches.

 

 _Whether I die here or get eaten, 'tis all the same_ , he thought grimly. _It's the end fer me._ _No one's gonna want t'help a dyin' searat_.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

 _Hellgates, here I come_.

 

* * *

 

But when Swiftdraw opened his eyes, he wasn't in Hellgates.

 

He wasn't even dead, and for a moment was surprised that he could still open his eyes. Instead of staring up at the sky, he could see the ceiling of a snug cavern. Instead of feeling gritty sand and grass underneath him, he felt a soft mattress and a pillow. Instead of his raggedy clothes, he could feel bandages around his arm and abdomen binding his wounds tightly.

 

Sitting up straight, he noticed belatedly the blanket that fell away from his body, and he winced at the pain that lanced through him after that effort. His dark eyes darted this way and that, taking in everything else – a small wooden table with a few stools around it, a cooking hearth glowing and aflame, tools mounted on the walls and stored in shelves, a few books in those shelves, and little half-done boats of all shapes. The aromas of apple, bread, and a savory something else were all over the place.

 

 _I'm dreamin_ '. Swiftdraw shook his head. _Or maybe I went t'that other place...was it 'cause I saved Cap'n Caello?_

 

The blanket felt soft in his paws. He gave the bed an experimental bounce and sniffed the air again. Something was baking, and it smelled good.

 

None of that answered the most pressing question in his mind: _Where am I?_ The last thing he remembered was waiting for death to come knocking on his door.

 

“Ahoy, matey, glad t'see yer awake!”

 

The voice belonged to what Swiftdraw believed to be another searat – a bigger one with muscled arms. Swiftdraw gasped and reached out to his right for a weapon...only to find nothing but empty space. He overbalanced and toppled to the floor with a howl of agony as he fell right onto his injured limb.

 

“Oof!”

 

The rat hurried over to Swiftdraw's side, and easily – not to mention gently – hoisted him up and back into the bed. Swiftdraw emitted a yelp as he tumbled back onto the mattress, but it was an improvement from the rocky floor. He let out a breath once he was settled in again.

 

“Sorry 'bout that. Been waitin' for ye t'wake up. I made supper, too!”

 

“Supper?” Swiftdraw parroted. Mentally he berated himself – of course, the hearth was in use and the fragrant smells of baking were all over. “Wait, wait a minute, who are ye an' what am I doin' here?” He spread his arms.

 

“I'm Blaggut. I know ye got a lotta questions, but they'll hafta wait,” Blaggut replied, smiling. “Ye gotta get yer strength back first! An' supper's just the ticket!”

 

* * *

 

Swiftdraw had never tasted anything so delicious: vegetable turnovers with hot steaming gravy, bread warm from the oven with nutty yellow cheese, and for dessert, apple pie with slightly scorched edges but still very good. He wolfed everything down with gusto; indeed, it was much better to eat first, ask questions later.

 

It wasn't until after the last crumb had been cleared from their plates that Swiftdraw leaned back in his bed contentedly and turned toward Blaggut, who had parked a chair next to the bed.

 

“So, what's yer name, shipmate?”

 

“Er...the crew calls me Swiftdraw. Fastest, most acc'rate archer t'ever sail the briny deep.” He closed his eyes briefly, a paw raised to his injured arm. “I was on Cap'n Caello's ship, the _Destroyer_...well, afore the mutiny.” Swiftdraw sighed, glancing down at his blankets as if hoping for a glimpse of the _Destroyer_ and the rest of its crew. “Yer a searat too, ever heard o' it?”

 

Blaggut looked blankly at Swiftdraw before answering with a shake of the head.

 

“About that...I ain't a searat no more,” the big rat answered, shrugging his broad shoulders. He didn't look regretful, or ashamed; his expression was calm and matter-of-fact. “I build boats. Been doin' it fer a few seasons now.”

 

“Why'd you give up?”

 

“Long story short...me cap'n and I lost our ship and the rest o' the crew. We turned up in Mossflower Wood, where we were taken in by the kind folk at Redwall.”

 

Swiftdraw had to interrupt. “Redwall! They say that place is full of treasure, innit?”

 

Blaggut shook his head again, more vigorously this time. His smile was sadder now. “Nah, shipmate, y'got it all wrong. They got the best vittles anywhere an' the kindest creatures around, but no gold or silver or gems. Anyways, even though Cap'n Slipp an' I was searats, the Redwallers took us in. He wanted t'find treasure, but all we got was Dibbuns' treasure.”

 

“Dibbuns?”

 

“Babes. Li'l ones,” the big rat said, a fond, soft glint in his eyes – a glint Swiftdraw found odd and unnerving on a former searat.

 

“Oh. So, it ain't _no_ real treasure?”

 

“Right.” Blaggut nodded, clasping his paws together on his lap. “But I guess I found a lotta other treasure there – friends, carin' creatures, an' a chance to make somethin' better wi' me life. It was like a second chance...I stopped bein' a searat and discovered I could build boats. I told the Father Abbot I'd do that, an' they helped me build my home.” He gestured at their surroundings with a wave of his right paw. “I even learned t'write an' cook better, an' a lotta other stuff. If it weren't for 'em, I'd still be a searat, killin' and plunderin'...”

 

“Yeah, yeah, so why'd ye save _me_?” Swiftdraw blurted out.

 

“Why?” Blaggut leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. “Well...thought I'd do the same for ye, mate. I couldn't leave ye behind t'die...y'still had a fighting chance. I dunno what really happened in yer mutiny, but...it don't matter now.”

 

“I could kill ye in your sleep once ye brung me 'ere! Y'ever thought o'that?”

 

Blaggut was silent for only a moment. “We coulda killed the Redwallers in their sleep, but they let us in anyways. An' Cap'n Slipp did kill someone, then I killed 'im for it, as revenge. That badger lady was a kind 'un. After that, I went back t'pologize, and the Redwallers continued t'be nice t'me.” He shrugged, and added with a chuckle, “'Sides, ye can't lift a cutlass or use a bow wit' that arm.”

 

Swiftdraw looked at his bandaged arm and winced at the pitiful sight of it. The other rat was right. They grew quiet as Swiftdraw mulled over what Blaggut had said, crinkling his blankets with his good paw.

 

“Y'know...if y'din't pick me up, I woulda been bird food by now,” he muttered. “I ain't no kindhearted creature like a Redwaller or a Dibbun, but I knows ye saved me from Hellgates. I'm alive, but I ain't got no crew now. They're either dead or gone sailed off as a new crew.” Swiftdraw turned his head aside as if to spit in disgust, but thought better of it and looked at Blaggut again. “A searat wit' no crew or ship...who woulda thought?”

 

“Y'don't need any o'that,” Blaggut pointed out. “Ye could be somethin' else, like me. I build boats now. I don't need no crew or ship, an' the best part? No one's afeared o'me anymore. At first, everyone thought I was a searat an' didn't trust me, but the Redwallers put in a good word fer me.” He was beaming as he spoke. “There's still lots ye kin do. Just not be a searat.”

 

“Lots, huh?” The searat archer's dark eyes flicked up at the ceiling. “Like lead a good ol' honest life from now on, y'mean?”

 

“That's right.”

 

Swiftdraw's mouth twitched into a grin, the first since the last moments he spent with his crew until the bloodshed began.

 

“A good ol' honest life...who woulda thought I'd be thinkin' 'bout that?”

 

“Thinkin' 'bout it is the first step,” Blaggut said earnestly. “That's how I started. An' look where I am now.”

 

Swiftdraw closed his eyes, thinking about it. A life without pillaging and plundering, but also without the battle that had torn his crew and his Captain apart...he had escaped with his life thanks to Blaggut, and had escaped death several times before as well. Maybe it was time to try a new life...a new, good ol' honest life...

 

He fell asleep in his bed with his thoughts, leaving Blaggut to tuck him in snugly.

 

“G'night, Swiftdraw, matey.”

 

* * *

 

The next time Swiftdraw woke up, he knew exactly where he was and what he was doing there. He grinned, just lying where he was and reveling in the soft bed, his healing injuries, and the warmth of a new morning. It was morning, judging from the light that came in from the mouth of Blaggut's cove.

 

_Yep, I'm still alive...sorry, Hellgates, Swiftdraw's comin' another day._

 

He pulled himself into a sitting position. As if on cue, Blaggut walked over to him, wearing a leather smock with tools sticking out of its chest pocket. The big rat was very cheerful, and Swiftdraw had to admit, it was contagious.

 

“G'mornin',” he said casually.

 

“G'mornin,” Blaggut replied. “Ye're up early.”

 

“Mmm-hmm...I been thinkin'. Once I kin get outta this bed, y'need any help wit' boatbuildin'?”

 


End file.
